


A New Day

by whimsicalwombat



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Holiday fic kind of, I just needed some Saram fluffiness ok, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 17:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalwombat/pseuds/whimsicalwombat
Summary: Samar prepares for Nowruz.Aram, meanwhile, is curiously quiet.





	A New Day

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this one shot came from. Nowruz is one of those many things I read about whilst writing Samar fics years ago now, but I never got around to writing anything in particular for it. 
> 
> I remembered by chance that it's actually this week and well, I'm on the contemplative side lately given everything being said on tumblr about what's in store for Samar in the next few episodes. So... Here we go. 
> 
> (Forgive my spelling where the names of things are concerned. Every article I read had something different, so I just tried to stick with one set and keep it consistent.)

Samar knew that at first, it didn't register in Aram's brain what she was doing. Though he too, came from a Persian family and did have a thorough understanding of the customs, he wasn't nearly as overt in practice of certain things as she was. 

That, and she  _ was _ being subtle. 

It didn't matter where she had lived, worked, or studied over the years. Samar had moved across borders from place to place so many times, never staying anywhere else as long as she had in her parents' home as a child, and rarely as long as she had now been living in DC since joining the taskforce. But that didn't matter. While so many customs and traditions had varied from place to place, leaving her with an almost fluid habit of simply joining the celebrations of those closest to her in the given moment, and prioritising her connections to people far more so than her ties to any one cultural practice, there was  _ one _ tradition she had always taken with her  _ wherever _ she went.  

Nowruz. 

The Persian New Year was one thing Samar could observe on her own and almost anywhere she liked. It was one thing she had always been able to carry with her from home, and one thing that was always a good, happy memory. It meant that over the years, her dedication to and love of it had only grown with her determination to always celebrate it no matter what.  

This year though, there was something a little different. Despite her relationship with Aram having been ongoing for almost two years, this was the first Nowruz since they had officially moved in together.  

In all honesty, Samar wasn't entirely sure how to talk to him about it. The hectic caseload they worked had led to her very nearly missing the holiday the year before, and only managing to mention it in passing. For a split second, self-conscious doubt sparked somewhere deep inside, wondering just how surprised he would be by the sheer level of intensity when it came to her observation of the day.  

Not that she needed to worry, and Samar knew that really. Of the two of them, Aram was the one who opted not to drink. He understood customs, traditions, and personal beliefs just as much as she did.  

But still, sharing the deepest, most personal, important things, wasn't always easy.  

Weeks before the holiday, when Samar sorted through a few old possessions, reorganised the bookshelf, vacuumed the rug in the living room, and amped up the determination to get through all the laundry that they had both been avoiding around their busy work hours, Aram didn't seem to think much of it. There was no objection, and no teasingly curious question. If anything, he saw each task underway and rolled up his sleeves, offering to do his part.  

And Samar had accepted, her eyes crinkling with affection as Aram had instantly flashed her an adoring smile and started one of his usual tangential stories about whatever was right in front of him.  

In the back of his mind he knew Nowruz was only a few weeks away, but it didn't seem to click that the subtly increased effort to tidy up the apartment was the traditional spring cleaning. 

A week after that, Aram's eyes lit up with awe at the sight of her. A dress in a shop window had caught her eye whilst walking past, and Samar had made the detour in their outing to stop in and try it on. It wasn't often that she wore dresses, let alone bought new ones. For the most part, and unless she was on the sort of undercover operation that required a cocktail dress, she found them impractical. She had said it more than often enough that Aram would have been well within reason to be curious at her sudden whim to browse the store, but he said nothing of the sort. Samar had rolled her eyes good-naturedly at herself and he had simply grinned back before following her inside the store. And though his brow had furrowed for a second in curious thought as she rifled through the racks and found the dress in her size, he didn't ask the question out loud.  

In fairness, he knew better than that. He knew that if she wanted to tell him something that was on her mind, she always would. And in the meantime, he simply went with her whims until she was ready.  

Unlike the other significant others in the store who seemed uncertain, annoyed or even impatient in the waiting area outside the change room, Aram sat there happily... And when Samar emerged from behind the curtain, needing his help with the clasp at the back of her neck, he simply beamed.  

At that point, she started to feel a little silly. Shopping and buying new clothes in the lead up to Nowruz was yet another part of the holiday, but Aram didn’t seem to have made that connection and neither, for that matter, was it Samar's favourite part of the preparation.  

But Aram tucked the loose strands of hair back behind her ear, kissed her cheek, and told her in all his earnest enthusiasm that she looked beautiful, and that was that.  

A week before Nowruz, and he didn't raise an eyebrow at the vase of fresh flowers that she placed on the dining table. Another smile lit his face and Aram had leaned in, inhaling the fresh perfume from the brightly coloured petals, and agreed that they did indeed smell lovely and even matched the curtains perfectly. 

Ok, so perhaps  _ that _ particular instance wasn't so unusual. Aram knew that she  _ did _ love gardening, and she even kept a potted orchid in the entry hall that she tended to all year round. Of all things, even Samar knew that bringing in some tulips and hyacinths for the dining table was probably the least curious thing she could have done.  

...With a close second being the increase of pastry, fruit, and nut related snacks that Samar brought into the apartment; foods that they  _ both _ always enjoyed, and on a fairly regular basis too.  

Even starting to grow a few lentil sprouts in a silver bowl in the kitchen, something they both enjoyed on occasion, and conveniently timed after Cooper had gone on a spree around the Post Office trying to convince them all to take better care of their health, didn't prompt Aram to ask any questions.  

Up until that point, and without Samar ever mentioning anything outright, her preparation was subtle and spaced out. That Aram possibly hadn't put the pieces together or said anything, wasn't  _ too  _ much of a stretch.  

It was only in the final lead up to the day that Samar wondered if he would say anything. It was at that point that it wasn't going to be subtle anymore. She moved the coffee table in the living room closer to the wall, layering over it a small, dark blue table cloth with intricately hand-embroidered flowers –the start of her haft-seen.  

Samar transferred the bowl of sprouts from the kitchen counter to one side of the table. She set out an array of further bowls and dishes, scattered around the table, and filled each with one of the seven key items;  _ Samanu, _ the sweet, wheat germ pudding;  _ Senjed,  _ the dried lotus tree fruit;  _ Serkeh, _ or vinegar;  _ Sir,  _ or garlic;  _ Sib, _ a trio of apples; and  _ Sumac, _ the spice; rounding out the total with  _ Sabzeh, _ the sprouts.  

Aram continued going about his usual weekend routine around the apartment, his eyes crinkling with affection for her as he glanced in her direction any time he went past, but still he kept quiet. Samar eyed him for a moment;  _ surely, he  _ had _ to realise what she was doing by now. _ Regardless, she carried on, arranging those main seven symbolic items around the table until she was happy with them. The vase of flowers joined the table next, as well as a small mirror leaning against the wall at the back, a few coins, an orange, some decorated eggs, and her favourite book of poetry.  

Last but not least, and with a smirk of amusement tugging at the corners of her lips, Samar reached for the small tank that sat just a few feet away with Aram's beloved turtle swimming around happily inside.  

Technically, the traditional thing to represent new life was a bowl with a goldfish or two, but just like everything else after the first seven items, it was optional and up to an individual's personal taste.  

And, well, Samar had never been _ overly _ fond of goldfish. Ironically, when considering what it was supposed to represent, she had never managed to keep them alive for very long, and that was assuming she  _ had _ managed to find the time to buy a new one just for the occasion each year in the first place –which this year, she hadn't. So surely, the turtle would suffice just this once.  

Besides; moving the tiny reptile that they already adored so much by just a few feet across the room so that he too could be included in the festivities seemed both more practical and more meaningful anyway, even if he  _ couldn't _ really fulfil the role of goldfish.  

Samar moved the tank to the haft-seen, settling it in nicely just beside the mirror. 

Turbo the turtle carried on swimming around inside, utterly unfazed by his apparent and temporary relocation.  

She stood up and back a step, smiling softly at her handiwork for a moment.  

Now all that was left were the candles.  

Samar crossed to the kitchen, opening up the top cabinet and pulling down her collection of candles and glass holders. A couple at a time, she carried them across to the table, arranging them around all the bowls and dishes.  

But on the last crossing, and still splattered with a splash of vinegar and some of the water from the flowers, her hand slipped. The candle and its glass holder slid from her grasp. Samar lunged for it, trying to catch it before impact, but it was no use. The sound of glass crashing and shattering all across the floorboards echoed in her ears as the old candle, cracked in two, rolled across the floor just past her feet.  

Samar's face crumpled, staring down at them for a second in dismay.  

Aram burst through the door from the next room at the noise, stopping suddenly as he realised what had happened, but for moment Samar paid him no attention. Even though in her peripheral vision she could see him begin to move around and behind her into the kitchen, her gaze remained focused on the smashed candle in front of her.  

There was no use crying over spilled milk –or a smashed candle- but for a holiday that was all about symbolism, and that she held onto with everything that she had, somehow that broken candle and its shattered glass holder stung more than Samar would have thought.  

'Here,' Aram's soft voice sounded from beside her. Samar glanced up, blinking in surprise as she noted him standing there. His gaze was gentle and sympathetic, and in his hand held up in offering was another, old candle in a holder of its own. 

But it wasn't one of hers. White in colour, and standing in a holder decorated apparently by hand with blue, mosaic tiles, it was a stark contrast to her soft, pink-ish red candles enveloped in plain glass that she had bought after moving to DC but had never been entirely happy with... And yet, Samar had never seen the candle in Aram's hand before in her life.  

'Does this help?' He spoke again, his quiet voice still ringing with concern.    
'That's beautiful,' Samar murmured, taking the candle into her hand. She glanced up at Aram, meeting his gaze and offering him a wistful smile. 'I didn't know you had this.'   
'Mom made it a few years ago,' he explained, breaking into a soft smile. 'I figure Nowruz is as good a time as any to use it-' Samar's eyes widened slightly in surprise, as Aram waved one hand back in gesture to one of the lower kitchen cupboards '-I, uh, have a full set, if you want them all to match.' 

Samar's gaze followed his, then turned back to the haft-seen across the room. Her brow furrowed in thought.  

She couldn't deny that the candle in her hand was far nicer than the ones she already had brought with her when they had moved in together,  _ and _ they matched the blue tablecloth better too.  

Her gaze met his again, and a wry smile began to etch its way across her face.  

'How long have you known what I was doing?' Samar asked quietly. Aram bowed his head.   
'Probably not as long as I should have,' he admitted, his expression turning sheepish. 'But the dress did make me wonder.' Samar's eyes crinkled, one hand instinctively dropping to brush against the soft, flowing fabric of the very dress that she was now wearing. 'I always loved Nowruz as a kid,' Aram mused. His gaze darted sideways for a moment, as if lost in thought and a flash of regret. 'But I lost the habit after it got too difficult to set up in my college dorm.' 

Samar nodded slowly in understanding. Somehow, that made sense. Whoever Aram's college roommate was, probably would have found the elaborate set up currently underway in their living room kind of odd, kicking Aram's self-consciousness that would have been even worse at that age, well into overdrive. 

He turned, opening the cupboard again to retrieve the box containing the full set of candles for her. 

'You didn't say anything.' Her words seemed a statement, albeit a gentle one, but Samar's voice went up ever so slightly at the end in curiosity. With the box of candles in hand, and falling into step beside her again, Aram's sobered expression only intensified.    
'I wasn't sure if you wanted me to,' he said softly. His gaze dropped to the box of candles, and he crouched down beside her at the table's edge, absent-mindedly joining in as Samar switched them all out. 'You don't always want to talk about things from your childhood.' Aram glanced back at her again, now as sorrowful and apologetic as he always was when they came to such difficult topics. 'I didn't want to push.' 

Samar set the last of the candles on the table. She paused for a beat, letting his words sink in.  

He hadn't said anything, not out of ignorance, but out of want to support her just as subtly and as quietly as she had been preparing so far. And he wasn't wrong; had he brought it up earlier, she _wouldn't_ have been sure what to say.  

It was a holiday that could be as reflective as it was joyous, and for Samar it went hand in hand with thinking back to celebrating it with her parents long before her life had been tipped upside down forever by their passing, just as much as she appreciated the present and looked forward to what the future could bring.  

Honestly, if she were Aram, she would have been cautious too.  

Samar turned on the spot to face him again, a small, grateful smile now beginning to etch its way across her face... But Aram's eyes didn't meet hers. Finally, they panned across the width of the table, taking it all in before focusing on one very particular thing at the back. He blinked in surprise for a moment, before stifling a snort of amusement. A smirk tugged at the corners of Samar's lips and she watched as Aram slowly turned his head, shooting her a look of mock indignation.  

'...Did you move my _ turtle?' _

/*/*/*/* 

The evening of the equinox came. Samar hummed happily to herself, her new dress flowing around her again as she lit the candles on the haft-seen. With Aram's candles, and even his turtle, mixed in with everything else on the table, it was the perfect blend of his and hers for their first Nowruz together living under the same roof.  

She sat back on the couch for a moment, watching those gently flickering flames with a contemplative but satisfied smile.  

With dinner already out of the way, all that was left was to count down to the exact second of the equinox, effectively starting the new year.  

Samar reached over the back of the couch with one hand, her fingertips just grazing the edge of Aram's shirt as he moved past her again, and catching his attention.  

'Sit with me?' The question slipped past her lips before she could even meet his gaze. There was a pause, as the words registered in his brain, and then;    
'I'd love to.' His voice, soft but earnest in its response, matched hers, and he rounded the couch, settling quickly down beside her.  

Silence fell between them, wordless but blissful and peaceful all the same. It was a moment of reflection of the outgoing year, and then thought and wishes for the next one coming in.  

The last year hadn't been the easiest, but there still had been light amongst the darkness. Aram's hand reached out, resting his fingertips around hers and gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. The cool metal of her engagement ring seemed to amplify in the warmth of his grasp and Samar smiled softly.  

Aram focused on the watch on his wrist, quietly counting down the minutes and then the seconds until the moment they were waiting for. The tiny, ticking, second hand made that final movement and Aram tilted his head, dotting a soft, slow kiss to her cheek.  

'Happy Nowruz, Samar,' he whispered. The wistful smile on her face widened slightly and Samar leaned in, closing her eyes in utter contentment for a moment, before pressing her lips to his. 

For all the roughness in the road that had led them to this point, she had him.  

And now... She always would.  

 


End file.
